


Friday Night

by SuperRedRobin (SweetFanfics)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: M/M, Party, Sneaking Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/SuperRedRobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim nods before turning the letter over. There is no name, only a small ‘S.B.’ written in red ink. Tim frowns slightly before excusing himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tinyredbird](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tinyredbird).



> Part of my trade with tinyredbird. She requested “Kon/Tim, Kon steals Tim away from a stuffy high brow party”

“I see no point in investing in hedge funds. Especially not after the whole mortgage industry debacle.” There are several murmurs of agreement and it takes every ounce of his control to keep from yawning in boredom because in his opinion, this whole conversation is a debacle.  
  


“And don’t me _started_ on the stock exchange. I’ve seen a yo-yo have more stability than the way the stock’s have been going.” He’s seen turtles with more vitality than this conversation too.  
  


He sneaks a discreet look at his watch and bites down a groan. It’s not even been five minutes since the last time he checked his watch.  
  


He’s been subjected to all sorts of business talk since he arrived at the party almost two hours ago. And there’s only so many current financial events that you can discuss before you want to chuck a chair at someone. But then again, not _everyone_ ’s been talking about business. A good number of the crowd has been discussing the new play which just finished its run. And by discussing he means tearing the performances, music, costumes, direction down to pieces until they’re nothing but tiny shreds being blown away by the wind.  
  


Tim is tired of all this idle talk. It’s a Friday night and here’s stuck here in the finest ball room in Gotham City with the crème de la crème of high society talking about hedge funds.  
  


 _‘Just shoot me.’_ Tim thinks to himself as he picks up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. He takes a small sip, half paying attention as he thinks about his Titan friends. Who were probably enjoying their movie night. He didn’t really like zombies but a George A. Romero Zombie marathon with his friends and snuggling with his boyfriend sounded infinitely better than hanging out with this crowd.  
  


 _‘Although one_ could _compare these people to zombies as well_.’ Tim snarks to himself as he takes a longer sip of the bubbly liquid. God how he wishes that he could get drunk and maybe pass out. At least that would get him out of this pit of misery. But then Alfred would give him nine kinds of Hell and _nothing_ is worth that.  
  


He laughs politely at the joke made by the red head before looking around the room. He can make out Brucie (apparently having a ball with a lady on either arm), Dick (hanging out by the buffet table, chatting up a red head wearing white) and he has no clue where Damian is (and he can’t give a shit about it either).  
  


“Excuse me sir…”  
  


Tim and the rest of the small crowd turn around to face the server as he holds out a small envelope out towards him.  
  


“I was told to pass this along to you.”  
  


“Thank you.” Tim nods before turning the letter over. There is no name, only a small ‘S.B.’ written in red ink. Tim frowns slightly before excusing himself. He walks away from the rest of the crowd, depositing his half empty glass on the nearest table before he opens the envelope.  
  


Two words are scribbled on the paper. ‘Waiting outside. Front desk.’ _‘What on earth…What’s Conner doing here?’_ Tim’s eyes dart around the room, quick and sharp. Bruce and Dick are still completely occupied. And he catches sight of Damian walking into the bathroom. He couldn’t have a more perfect chance even if he had asked for it.  
  


Taking great care to avoid anyone who might want to drag him into a conversation, he slips out of the fancy room and quickly makes his way to the front lobby. As he walks down well lit corridors, his brain is coming up with all kinds of scenario’s. Someone got hurt. Alien invasion. Death virus. Bomb threat. There’s so many things that could have gone wrong that Kon had to come and get him.  
  


When he turns the corner, Kon catches sight of him the same moment he does. The boy is wearing his glasses and a flannel shirt and he looks completely out of place amongst the silk and finery around him. With brisk steps, Tim walks over to him. He can’t help but frown slightly in confusion at Kon’s clothes though. _‘Why is he in his civilian clothes…’_   
  


“What’re you doing here?” Tim asks once he’s in earshot.  
  


Kon tips his head quickly to the side, “Though I’d come rescue you from boredom. Be your knight in shining armor and all.”  
  


He can’t help but blink in surprise, “But how did you know?”  
  


Kon chuckles lightly, “After all the complaining you did a few days ago? Call it a lucky guess.”  
  


Tim can’t help but laugh back, happiness bubbling up inside his chest. Though that might have been the champagne…  
  


“So, how was it?” Kon asks curiously, thumbs slipping into his jean pockets.  
  


“ _Boring_.” Tim declares, “If I hear someone talking about _anything_ related to hedge funds or futures or derivatives or macroeconomic policies, I’m going to knock them out.” Tim declares with an irritated eye roll.  
  


“Well the good news is that in another hour all you’ll be hearing is Cassie yelling at us to skip all the gory bits, Bart naming all the body parts being bitten off and…” He leans in to whisper the next part of his sentence, “me trying to get you to make out with me.”  
  


“Sounds perfect.” Tim admits softly with a restrained shiver.  
  


He wants to reach out and take Kon’s hand in his and maybe even kiss him. But ‘Tim Drake-Wayne’ has an image to uphold. Plus, he knows that Vicki Vale’s around somewhere on the premises so it’s better being safe than sorry.  
  


But it’s still so very tempting…  
  


“Lets blow this joint.” Kon declares and starts walking towards the front door. One hand patting Tim’s shoulder as he walks away.  
  


“After you.” Tim replies as he keeps pace with Kon. “Oh wait.” He pauses and looks around, “I should leave a note for Alfred telling him that I’ve left.”  
  


“I gotcha covered.” Kon tells him as he puts both hands on Tim’s shoulders and begins to steer him out. “I already told him that I’m stealing you for the weekend for some down time.”  
  


“Thought of everything did you?” Tim teases as he allows himself to be manhandled.  
  


“Yeah well…I learned from the best.” Kon winks as he holds the door open for Tim. “Lets move. Bart’s swore that he wouldn’t wait longer than 11 before attacking all the popcorn.”  
  


“Can’t have that now can we.” Tim grins as he drags Kon into the nearest dark alley where he can change into Superboy and fly them to Titan Tower.


End file.
